


all the things that we could be

by obiter



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi doesn't realize he's head over heels but the rest of the team does, But it's actually real, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fukurodani loves their captain ok, Idiots in Love, Jealous Akaashi Keiji, M/M, Oblivious Bokuto Koutarou, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obiter/pseuds/obiter
Summary: Akaashi dates Bokuto, for the good of the team. No other reason.(Or, alternatively, Bokuto gets dumped again, the volleyball club fistfights the basketball team for his honor, and then has to find a way to make sure Bokuto's bad boyfriend track record doesn't get their season canceled. Akaashi steps up.)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 11
Kudos: 240
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	all the things that we could be

After the coach finishes yelling at them, and the basketball team head coach and captain/star basketball player, Hideyoshi, who’s going to have a black eye for tomorrow’s season opener, leave the gym, Sarukui turns to Akaashi and says, “Did you hear coach? We can’t keep fistfighting for Bokuto’s honor.”

The boy in question is nowhere to be found. The coach had sent him away, much to the basketball coach and his star player’s displeasure. 

(“You can’t blame this on Bokuto-san. He doesn’t have a vicious bone in his body,” Akaashi had said, focused on his coach. He kept his chin high when he glanced askance at the basketball coach and then Hideyoshi. “But I have several, and I take full responsibility for this team’s behavior.”

Had Bokuto been there, he probably would have gasped, or said, “You’re so cool, Akaashi,” or, worse, chosen that time of all times to be a proper sports captain and take responsibility for his renegade teammates, so Akaashi’s fiercely glad that Shirofuku herded Bokuto out of the gymnasium so he could handle this with some dignity. 

As it was, Akaashi had to endure unimpressed side glances from Konoha, Sarukui, and Komi, as well as their coach’s flat, “Good. Because you threw the first punch, Akaashi.”)

Akaashi’s right hand aches, and he fully expects practice to be miserable. The first time Bokuto was dumped, publicly and cruelly, Akaashi was in his first year. He remembers staying behind in the locker room while his senpai stormed out. Konoha, who until that point, had seemed the hardest on Bokuto, led the way, his furious “who the fuck does Hayato think he is?” echoing around the room. 

Alone with Bokuto, Akaashi had hesitated. Up until that point, he knew Bokuto only through their post-practice practices. He knew the exact curve of Bokuto’s arm when he swung back for a spike. He knew exactly the kind of toss Bokuto liked best. He knew Bokuto would, in particular, gloat about his last spike the entire walk home, sneaking seeking little glances to make sure Akaashi was listening.

In the locker room that day, he didn’t recognize Bokuto, that heartbroken one with flat eyes and soft, unsteady breaths. His Bokuto always bounced back. His Bokuto soared, incandescent and loud.

(Bokuto’s mouth had trembled, and first-year Akaashi knelt in front of second-year Bokuto and, full of words he’d turn over later, whispered, “Bokuto-san, we’ll find you a nice boy. A cute one, who likes volleyball. And he’ll hold your hand and tell you you’re the best, and he’ll never make you cry like Hayato--”

And Bokuto had laughed, so sudden and hopeful and sweet, ears pink like Akaashi had complimented a game-winning cross. “Do you promise, Akaashi?”

“I promise, Bokuto-san.”)

“Akaashi.” This time Akaashi turned, facing Sarukui and the two others. “At this rate, we’ll be fighting the judo team, and I don’t think we can win against them.”

“Have more faith in us, Sarukui-san,” Akaashi says. “But you are correct, we can’t keep fighting the other sports teams.”

Konoha harrumphs, a bruise already forming across his jaw from a lucky punch. “Maybe if those assholes stopped talking shit about Bokuto, we wouldn’t have to.”

“We could take the judo team,” Komi says, rolling his wrists. His nose is still bleeding, but he also looks the least exhausted out of the group. For being almost 10 cm shorter than most of the basketball players, Komi got the most hits in. Apparently, the same recklessness that made him a great libero also made him a great brawler. “But I guess we are starting to get labeled delinquents.”

Sarukui makes an impatient noise, his usually cheerful and relaxed expression long ruined by a sucker-punch to the solar plexus. “Were none of you listening? Coach said if we get caught fighting again, the season is _over_.” Sarukui pauses, looking at them one by one. “For everyone.”

Clearly, only Sarukui listened to the scolding in full because both Konoha and Komi gasp, expressions twisting into horror. Akaashi’s mouth opens uselessly, his brain coming to the conclusion just a step faster than them.

A heartbroken Bokuto can be managed.

But a Bokuto without volleyball?

. . . 

Washio intercepts a judoka with a glare and crossed arms, and Akaashi sighs deeply. Across from him, Bokuto pokes listlessly around the convenience store bento that might have expired already, judging by the off-color of the tuna. Akaashi gently pulls the bento away. Bokuto doesn’t notice.

“Bokuto-san, were you listening?”

“No,” Bokuto sighs, fiddling with his chopsticks. “You promised you wouldn’t get mad.”

“I was not mad at you, Bokuto-san. Neither were the others.”

“You were mad at Ken, though.”

Akaashi sighs. He wonders how much Bokuto has heard. Does he know the things Hideyoshi Ken said? Does he know how Hideyoshi Ken laughed, called Bokuto _easy_ and _needy_ and _clingy_ , with a filthy kind of inflection that could push even Akaashi to violence? 

“He hurt you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, patiently. He reaches over and covers Bokuto’s fluttering hands with his. “We’re your team. You’d do the same for us.”

Bokuto doesn’t say anything. His lips purse, like he’s actually thinking about what he’ll say next. Akaashi doesn’t want him to say anything.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto says finally, fathomless golden eyes locking onto him. “Akaashi, don’t be mad.”

If Akaashi could push those words back into Bokuto, he would. If Bokuto was actually a puzzle and not just a puzzling boy, Akaashi could fit all the right pieces into place. At least, Akaashi’s anger is already spent; his right hand is proof of it. 

“I really liked Ken.” 

The admission hangs there, and Akaashi stares at their joined hands. 

Softer, Akaashi says, “I know, Bokuto-san.” He waits until Bokuto catches his eye. Even softer, then, although he knows that Bokuto will get angry, Akaashi says. “But he didn’t like you.”

Akaashi is left to pick up the spilled bento after Bokuto sweeps it off his desk and takes off, like a bird in flight. He storms out, Washio on his heels, and Akaashi ducks his head down when the few third-years in the classroom look at him and start to whisper. 

But Akaashi just cleans up the bento and returns to his own classroom. 

. . . 

Bokuto refuses to talk to him during practice and, instead, spins on his heel in the opposite direction whenever Akaashi approaches him in the gym. Technically, Akaashi is not allowed to practice, but when the coach sees him in his volleyball uniform and his school shoes, the coach just rolls his eyes. Their coach, for all his yelling, had opened the lecture with “Good on you for standing up for your captain” to the other coach’s dismay.

“Do you ever think,” Komi begins, also in his volleyball uniform and school shoes, “that we coddle Bokuto too much?”

“Yes, all the time.” Konoha, also in his volleyball uniform and school shoes, scowls. “We got suspended for that ungrateful bastard.”

“Twice,” Sarukui adds, also in his volleyball uniform and school shoes. “We don’t even need to be here.”

Akaashi lets his three upperclassmen complain, focusing instead on Bokuto and Washio, who, as the only upperclassmen to not storm the basketball club room because of a dentist appointment, is temporarily vice-captain. Bokuto, thankfully, is directing the non-regulars into three-on-three plays (“to the death!” Bokuto hoots while Washio shakes his head in the negative in the background and Onaga, embracing leadership, gestures for the first-years to relax). 

Bokuto reaches for the sky and jumps. He cheers, and the non-regulars, used to watching his antics from the sidelines, cheer with him because they’re not inoculated against Bokuto’s particular strain of enthusiasm. Yet. 

“But he did buy us popsicles so…”

“He could have sprung for a sports drink.”

“Or two popsicles.”

This is the Bokuto that Akaashi knows. His flexible mind has pushed away the heartbreak for now, probably encouraged by the healthy amount of bottled smoothies Shirofuku sprung for after hearing about Bokuto’s breakup. 

“Really, we deserve barbecue.” 

_Easy._ Akaashi frowns. Bokuto lights up when Shirofuku slaps his back. He steps so easily into her space, his grin demanding more of her time and attention. _Clingy_.

“Barbecue and then popsicles for dessert.”

“Oh please,” Komi laughs. “You two are always the first to jump to his defense. You do it for free!”

_You promise, Akaashi?_

“You’re one to talk!”

_Easy--_

“I’m going to date Bokuto-san.” 

The coach’s whistle drowns out three expletives.

. . . 

“Okay, explain it to us again,” Konoha says, squatting in front of Akaashi. He glances quickly at the thermometer Komi waves at him. He frowns. “Check it again. Otherwise we’ll take him to the nurse.”

Sarukui, pacing behind Konoha and biting his thumbnail, says, “Maybe we should take him to the nurse anyways?”

Akaashi scowls. Usually, his senpai are more than eager to offload Bokuto on him. Why they are hindering him now is ridiculous. He’s half-tempted to swat away the thermometer, but he’s fairly certain that the three boys will drag him to the nurse’s office if he does anything even slightly out of character. Raising a hand at his upperclassmen, unfortunately, being one of those actions.

“I’m fine,” He says, instead. The three boys look unconvinced. “I thought this through--”

“But did you?” Konoha asks.

“--I went over all the possible outcomes--”

“But did you?” Sarukui demands.

“--I weighed the pros and cons--”

“But did you?” Komi shoves one hand on his forehead and one under his chin to check his temperature, deciding that the digital thermometer is broken because clearly Akaashi is delirious. “Did you really?”

Akaashi firmly pushes both of Komi’s hands off him. “One of the third-years from the judo team tried to confess to Bokuto-san today. Washio stopped him, but it’s only a matter of time.”

That news, finally, shuts up the other three. Now all of them look like Akaashi slid Bokuto’s lucky compression knee pads under their noses. 

Emboldened, Akaashi continues, “Bokuto-san is--” _clingy, easy_ “--an incurable romantic. He will inevitably receive other confessions, which he will accept so long as he is single. And it’s not in his nature to turn away attention.” _Needy._

“We can’t ask Shirofuku or Suzumeda,” Sarukui says quietly. “And none of the female captains have time to baby Bokuto.”

Komi’s just as hushed. “None of them would even agree.”

But Konoha just stars at Akaashi, a hard twist to his mouth. “It can’t just be anyone.”

Akaashi stares back at him evenly. “It has to be me.”

. . .

In the end, Konoha gets Washio and Washio tells Akaashi to sleep on his idea. Akaashi very nearly disagrees, but Washio puts one big hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes.

“Just think about it until tomorrow’s practice,” He says, a heaviness to his tone that makes Akaashi suspicious. Would Washio be a better choice for this plan? “I’ll make sure Bokuto doesn’t accept any confessions until then.”

Bokuto cancels post-practice practice, with a furious pout directed at Akaashi, and pointedly only talks to Washio as the six regulars walk home together. Onaga, showing good judgment, says goodbye to everyone at the gate, bows to Bokuto, and sprints to catch his bus before Bokuto can make him stay. 

Washio humors Bokuto, nodding and nodding while he builds up steam as he reenacts how he saved an owlet in middle school. Akaashi doesn’t believe for a second it was an owl, since Bokuto doesn’t remember if the animal even had wings, but he does believe that Bokuto saved some poor creature from plummeting to its doom and was subsequently injured in carrying out his good deed.

“--and that’s where the bone broke skin.” Bokuto finishes, showing a barely visible scar on his wrist to Washio. “And this is where it bit me.”

“And what,” Konoha cuts in, jostling Bokuto with his shoulder, “does that have to do with training camp?”

“Don’t be afraid of really going low for those digs.” Bokuto winks at Komi. “We should all channel our inner Komiyan. And our inner me, of course.”

Konoha digs his fingers right between Bokuto’s ribs, smirking when Bokuto yelps. “I don’t think our team can handle another you.” 

“Konoha,” He whines, head swiveling for the first time to meet Akaashi’s eye. “Akaashi, did you see--”

And then he catches himself, clearly torn between continuing his annoyance and demanding that Akaashi soothe him. Bokuto chooses to sulk, crosses his arms, and tucks his chin into his chest. 

Akaashi gets four sympathetic looks, and Konoha, much more gently, pokes Bokuto’s cheek. “If I had to channel an inner teammate, and it couldn’t be Komi, it’d probably be you.”

Mollified, Bokuto regales them with another story.

. . . 

Akaashi finishes his mathematics homework and reviews for his literature quiz. The quiz is over a story he remembers Bokuto telling him about. Bokuto’s version includes animal characters and a much happier ending, and he had first shared it with Akaashi on the way to last year’s training camp. 

(“And the hero went back to his tree and lived, happily ever after,” Bokuto said, taking up most of the seat. 

From behind them, Sarukui had laughed. “That’s not how the story goes, Bokuto.”

And Bokuto laughed along, tipping his head back like it would help him see the other boy better. “Why not? It’s better this way.”)

Bent over his notes, Akaashi sighs. He leans forward, stares at his splayed hands, stares until his neat handwriting blurs and he gives up on getting any kind of review done. Hopefully, he remembers the actual story and not Bokuto’s fanciful retelling.

_I’m going to date Bokuto-san. Clingy, needy, easy, Bokuto-san._

It has to be him. Even if, maybe, Konoha would be a better choice.

. . . 

Akaashi’s entire plan is consolidated into a pocket-sized spiral notepad that he filled in one night. Despite the sharp pain in his right hand, Akaashi continued to write, filling page after page with lists and diagrams and doodles all to create a foolproof and Bokuto-proof plan to save the team from certain doom and demise the next time Bokuto tried to date, inevitably had his heart broken and humiliated, and cried in the locker room while his teammates fought for his honor and, in doing so, lost volleyball for their final year of high school. 

Akaashi has to save the team by dating Bokuto himself. 

In his pocket-sized notepad, Akaashi begins by attempting to analyze alternatives. Persuade Bokuto to never date again until after graduation? Impossible. Bokuto wants nothing more than to be adored, and a boyfriend would provide hours of adoration. Also, Bokuto sometimes does the exact opposite of what he is told, no matter how much he promises that he won’t. 

Prevent people from confessing to Bokuto? Impossible. Bokuto is tall and handsome with the sort of buoyant personality that attracts even the coldest, most sensible types. Off the court, Bokuto is approachable and happy, like a beloved dog or friendly parrot. On the court, Bokuto is--

The point is, Akaashi has thought this plan through. He is prepared. He has date ideas (the spring food festival; an owl sanctuary; the children’s section of a bookstore). He has considered kissing techniques (close-mouthed and firm, while holding hands). He has Bokuto’s favorite snacks stocked and already washed his biggest pullover in case Bokuto demands to wear it. 

But when Akaashi presents the notepad to Konoha and says, “Maybe you should do it. Don’t worry, I’ve prepared everything,” Konoha, without even opening it, declines. Loudly. And speedwalks away. 

Komi and Sarukui look down at the notepad as though Akaashi is presenting them with Bokuto’s second lucky pair of compression knee pads. Shirofuku is the only one who asks to look at the notepad. She’s probably dealt with worse, being the person in charge of getting the uniforms laundered. 

Shirofuku flips through the notebook, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I really don’t know what we’d do without you Akaashi,” She says, a lilt of laughter in her voice. “What would Bokuto do without you?”

“I’m doing this for the team.”

She hands him back the notebook with a sly “What would the team do without you?” 

In the background, Konoha is still ranting. This time to Bokuto, who manages to put the ball cart between him and his red-faced teammate. 

“Why are you mad at me?” Bokuto cries. Konoha picks up a volleyball and hurls it at him. He reaches for another. 

“You owe me so much barbecue!”

Shirofuku gently tugs him back onto the bleachers. “But Akaashi, I think maybe you’re not thinking this through.”

“But you read the notepad,” Akaashi counters. His hands curl into loose fists. “I thought of everything.”

The manager nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I did, I did. But, Bokuto is… You have a blind spot when it comes to Bokuto.”

“A blind spot.”

“Just a small one,” She amends, patting his knee. Komi and Sarukui nod. In the background, Konoha has given up on battering Bokuto with volleyballs because he had turned it into a game of blocking. He blocks two with his chest, beaming with pride. Konoha trudges back, while Bokuto turns to go share the new game with the first-years. “Think of it this way: if it were anyone else, would you offer to date them like this?”

Akaashi blinks. Konoha, still sour-faced, reaches the group just in time to hear the question posed.

“Akaashi wouldn’t,” He answers, a little out-of-breath from heaving volleyballs at Bokuto’s face. To Akaashi, he says, “Because it’s Bokuto, and it’s you.”

Offended, Akaashi narrows his eyes. The notepad burns in his hands. “I’m doing this for the team. I don’t see any of you volunteering.”

“Fine. I’ll date him then.” Konoha rolls his shoulders, then his neck, like he’s about to serve. “It won’t be that hard. It probably won’t even be that different from usual. Just more hand-holding.”

“And kissing,” Komi adds. 

“Right,” Konoha sighs loudly. “He does like kissing.”

Akaashi tucks the notepad back into his jacket pocket with, perhaps, a tad more force than necessary because all four upperclassmen look at him. Perhaps it should be Konoha. After all, Konoha is an integral and valuable part of the team and more than capable of any task. Stiffly, Akaashi says, “Since you know so much about Bokuto-san, perhaps you should date him. For the sake of the team.”

Konoha just looks at him consideringly. He’s attractive enough, with sharp features and a quick wit. He’d probably make Bokuto happy. Bokuto always seems happy when Konoha shakes him around. He’s not the nicest boy, and he probably won’t tell Bokuto he’s the best, but he does like volleyball and he’d hold Bokuto’s hand, and Bokuto would be happy.

_Easy._

Akaashi shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have to do this for any of you because you’re not like Bokuto-san. You…” His upperclassmen look at him expectantly, but Akaashi finds he can’t finish. The words all feel too cruel, so he holds them back. Uselessly, he says, instead, “None of you are Bokuto-san.”

He means that none of them are as trusting, as generous with their feelings as Bokuto. Bokuto is clingy and easy and needy, but it’s Bokuto. Those are his qualities, but Hideyoshi twisted them into dirty things and then laid them out for the world. 

“You’d kill Bokuto in three days,” Sarukui says suddenly, looking at Konoha. He winks at Akaashi. “Or yourself. Let Akaashi date Bokuto.”

. . . 

Akaashi originally planned to confess properly to Bokuto. The letter is ready, tucked into his satchel alongside a candy bar in case Bokuto questions where the chocolate is. He planned to confess on the court before the end of practice so Bokuto, still trying to maintain a facade of anger, couldn’t run from him.

The plan gets ruined when Onaga bursts into the gymnasium, gasping for air, shouting, “The judo captain cornered Bokuto!”

Akaashi forgets his satchel, flying off the bleachers with the others behind him. He runs directly to the water faucets, where Bokuto likes to go and dunk his head after sprints, and sees Hiroshi Rin leaning against the stone wall while Bokuto, bent down to let the water run over the back of his neck, grins up at him. 

Hiroshi Rin is broad-shouldered and straightforward, and Akaashi sees him put his hand right on Bokuto’s lower back. His hand slides down, past the waistband of Bokuto’s shorts and Akaashi shouts Bokuto’s name.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tries to keep the hitch out of his voice. He fails. “I’m in love with you, please go out with me!”

Hiroshi Rin, as everyone learns that day, also has a ringing laugh that echoes across the school grounds. It echoes in Akaash’s ears after Bokuto rejects him and stomps away.

. . .

“That was cruel, Bokuto,” Shirofuku chides. She refuses to lend him money for the vending machine and stays firm when Bokuto pulls her jacket and complains. “You broke Akaashi’s heart.”

Akaashi’s heart is not broken; he’s only sitting in the small space between the bleachers because it’s quiet and dark and no one can see him scratching out and scribbling in his notepad. He has to rally, and he can’t rally if his team is giving him sympathetic looks and trying to rub his back.

From his nook, Akaashi sees Bokuto glance over at him, his features twisted in guilt and regret. Good. Akaashi scratches out an entire page in his notepad, almost tearing a hole in the page. 

“You embarrassed him.” Suzumeda glares at him. Good. “You were mean.”

Bokuto gasps, an affronted little noise tearing out of him. “He was mean! He was teasing me--”

Akaashi curls into himself a little tighter. 

“How? By telling you he loved you and wanted to date you? Yes, he’s so cruel. He’s a monster.”

“He doesn’t want to actually date me,” Bokuto argues, petulant. He even stomps his foot. “He just wants to be mean and tell me what to do.”

“Rude,” Konoha cuts in. “He just wants to date you and take you to the zoo.”

“Also, he can be mean and tell you what to do without the trouble of dating you.”

Owl sanctuary, but the zoo isn’t a bad idea. Grudgingly, Akaashi flips forward a few pages and adds it to the notepad. Pathetically, he can’t bring himself to just tear up the entire thing. It figures that Bokuto would accept Hideyoshi’s lazy _let me take you out, Bokuto_ and Hayato’s lewd _you look good in those knee pads_ , but Akaashi’s confession was somehow lacking. It figures that Bokuto would be easy with everyone else but Akaashi. Of course.

Poor Washio is forced to become captain, and Onaga vice-captain, as the rest of the regular team gangs up on Bokuto. Eventually, Shirofuku sends Bokuto over with a juice box and a strict _don’t you dare drink it_. Bokuto drags his feet the entire way and tries to squeeze into the small space alongside Akaashi. He can’t, so instead he tugs on Akaashi’s shorts.

“Tell me one thing you like about me,” He demands.

“You’re the best.”

It’s low, but it works. Despite his wariness, Bokuto’s face softens a little, his full mouth curving into a smile. He even passes the juice box to Akaashi. 

“Are you just asking me out because you know I’m still a little sad about Ken?”

Akaashi looks down at his juice box so Bokuto doesn’t see his eye twitch. _I’m asking you out because the entire team is willing to risk suspension because every boy you date breaks your heart, you stay a little sad, I’m asking you out for the sake of the team, and because Hideyoshi made you out to be a slut in front of the entire school and I punched him in the face and we could be suspended, but you want someone to walk you home to your big empty house and stay with you, so you’ll settle for every Hideyoshi and Hayato and Hiroshi and then I have to choose between volleyball and punching a third-year in the face and you don’t even care that I’ll fight for you every time--_

Akaashi bites the inside of his cheek hard and tastes blood. Bokuto hunches forward, fingertips reaching out and touching Akaashi’s knee. He says, kindly, patting him on the knee, “It’s okay, Akaashi. It’s okay.”

“I care about you a lot, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi looks at him finally. He breathes out. “I want you to give me a chance.”

Bokuto, ears pink, smiles. “Okay, Akaashi. Since it’s you.”

. . . 

“But I want a proper confession first,” Bokuto says in his captain’s voice, to Akaashi’s exhaustion. It softens when Bokuto adds, with a pout, “A nice one, with chocolate.”

. . . 

Bokuto was voted captain by his teammates for two main reasons.

  1. No one wanted to be responsible for captaining Bokuto.
  2. Bokuto made the people around him better.



Even off the court, Akaashi can feel the pull of Bokuto’s spirit, the confidence of his demand that Akaashi give him 120%. Bokuto manages to get the most out of his team, even if his methods are questionable and, on a weaker team, would mean certain defeat. 

Thus, Akaashi makes a detour to the boy’s washroom and fixes his hair. He is good-looking, and he knows he looks best the more aloof he remains. He tilts his head, decides that using a proper shampoo and conditioner rather than his usual 3-in-1 soap was a good choice, and lets residual irritation from Hiroshi’s ugly laugh fuel his determination all the way to the third-year classroom. 

The first thing he sees is Bokuto’s broad back, the strong line he makes leaning on Washio’s desk. Akaashi almost falters but steadies himself.

 _For the good of the team,_ he thinks grimly. _Because Bokuto-san deserves a nice boy, and surely I’m a better option than Hiroshi Rin._

Washio sees him, grins, and nudges Bokuto. Bokuto glances back, bouncing back and straightening up when he recognizes Akaashi. “Akaashi!” He calls out, a knowing little curl to his smile. “Have you brought me chocolate?”

Akaashi pushes the letter and three boxes of chocolate--three fancy Belgian brands that ate through his birthday money--into Bokuto’s hands and then drops into the sharpest, neatest bow of his life. 

One of Bokuto’s shoes is untied.

“Bokuto-san,” He begins softly, smirking a little because Bokuto keeps making soft _oh oh ohs_ of surprise. “I’ve loved you for a long time. Please accept my feelings.”

It’s a class break, but enough third-year students linger to watch Bokuto consider Akaashi’s confession. Most of them know him, since Bokuto makes a habit of introducing Akaashi every time he drags him to have lunch with him and Washio. 

He stays bowed until Bokuto exhales, the noise sounding like his name. “Okay. Okay, okay, I accept. I’ll go out with you, Akaashi.”

. . . 

“What part are you unclear about?” Akaashi asks, politely, because he can see similar shades of confusion on each of his upperclassmen. 

All of them are huddled together in the club room while Bokuto leads the rest of the team in serving drills. Poor Onaga is left to play vice-captain once again, meaning that he is rushing to get last-minute acquisition forms to the administration. It’s good practice for when Akaashi rewards him with the vice-captainship next year.

Sarukui and Komi look at each other. Suzumeda, now filled in on the plan, is quieted by Washio and Shirofuku when she tries to speak. Konoha is rubbing his temples.

“You know, this is probably our fault,” Konoha says, moving on to massaging his forehead. “Because it’s you, we trusted that you knew what you were doing. After all, who knows Bokuto better than you, his setter? But, clearly, we were wrong, and you’re a dumbass.”

Akaashi bristles. 

Washio frowns. “That was harsh, Konoha.”

Konoha stares at his classmate. “You heard the part where he said he’ll date Bokuto until graduation, but, if necessary, he’ll continue dating him until Bokuto goes pro.”

“For his well-being,” Akaashi protests.

Suzumeda holds up a hand, looking nervously around. “I still don’t understand how Akaashi-kun dating Bokuto is a solution at all?”

At once, Sarukui and Komi explain. “If Bokuto is dating someone, he won’t date the judo team captain. Or the swim team captain. Or the chess club captain.”

“The captains are all animals,” Konoha adds, darkly. “We held our own against basketball and baseball, and Coach didn’t expel us, but he threatened to cancel the entire season if we got into another fight.”

“Right, sure, right,” Suzumeda nods, keeping her hand in the air. “So is Akaashi fake-dating Bokuto, or…” 

“I would actually date him,” Akaashi answers. “We’re going to the zoo this weekend.”

“What if he breaks up with you?”

“He won’t.” He gets a lot of suspicious looks, but Akaashi ignores them. “Bokuto-san doesn’t have a vicious bone in his body. He won’t break up with me.”

“Uh-huh.” Konoha glances at Washio. Washio shrugs minutely. Between them, Shirofuku mouths _blind spot._ “And you won’t get sick of him?”

Akaashi thinks of Bokuto whining in the toilets and blaming Akaashi for letting him eat an entire box of chocolate in one sitting. He thinks of the way Bokuto nuzzled into his hand when he wiped chocolate off his cheek.

He thinks of Hiroshi’s hand on Bokuto’s lower back.

“Bokuto-san can be,” Akaashi pauses, smiling a little, “bearable, you know.”

His upperclassmen stare at him. Konoha glances at Washio again and gets a more helpless shrug in response.

“I’ll survive.” No one looks convinced. Akaashi frowns. “I can do it. You trusted Bokuto to me when I was a first-year. I will do as I have always done.”

“We do have faith in you, Akaashi.” Shirofuku’s eyes are kind and she’s usually gentle, but there’s an extra softness to her. “But you’re also our teammate, and we worry about you, too.”

Akaashi blinks at her and then looks at the rest of his upperclassmen. 

“Why would you worry about me? I’ll be doing the same as I always do.”

. . . 

“He likes kissing,” Suzumeda says suddenly. The reminder that everyone knows about how much Bokuto likes kissing makes Akaashi go flat-faced. “You’ll have to kiss him.”

“I’ll survive,” Akaashi says, flatly, through the dryness of his mouth. 

. . . 

Dating Bokuto is surprisingly similar to being friends with Bokuto. There is a lot of buying him things (“I want the big stuffed owl, Akaashi!”) and managing his moods (“This is a limited-time-only chicken salad wrap, Bokuto-san. If you finish it, then we’ll get bubble tea.”) and making sure he doesn’t do anything reckless (“If you try to climb into another pen, we’ll get kicked out and then we’ll miss the sea lion show.” “But Akaashi! I just wanted a closer look at the lions, and so did Kuroo.”)

Akaashi says goodbye to Kuroo and hangs up on him before the other boy can finish saying goodbye and “have fun on your da--.”

Bokuto is standing on a park bench, a stuffed owl bigger than his head clutched to his broad chest. Akaashi has no idea what he’s looking at, but when Bokuto raises his foot and puts it on the back of the bench to get even higher, Akaashi grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him down.

“Behave yourself, Bokuto-san.” He scolds. Bokuto just blinks down at him. The stuffed owl stares. “What were you looking at?”

“The giraffes.” Bokuto frowns. “I can kind of see their heads…”

(The next time Bokuto climbs back up, Akaashi braces his hands on Bokuto’s hips to keep him steady and tells a polite grandmother concerned about his flushed face that “it’s only the heat.” 

Bokuto buys him coconut shaved ice and only eats three bites because “you need it more, Akaashi.”)

In short, day-to-day life doesn’t really change. Bokuto introduces him as his boyfriend and tries to switch club jackets with Akaashi after practice and actually remembers not to throw Akaashi’s jacket wherever he wants. 

Akaashi also holds Bokuto’s hand more often, but it turns out that hand-holding is an efficient way to manage Bokuto. After all, Bokuto can’t run away if Akaashi laces their fingers together. And, if Bokuto still tries to join the elementary schoolers playing volleyball in the park, Akaashi can simply yank and Bokuto will return to his side, a little morose but easily placated when Akaashi kisses his knuckles.

. . . 

“Tell me something you like about me,” Bokuto demands again, splayed out on Akaashi’s bed as though he owns it. Akaashi stays on the floor, working diligently on his mathematics homework. Bokuto finished his but refused to double-check it. Nevertheless, Akaashi counts it as a win. 

“You’re the best,” Akaashi says automatically. “Why don’t you tell me something you like about me for once?”

“Your tosses!”

“One more thing.”

“You keep your promises.”

Akaashi stops writing. He looks over at Bokuto, who’s pointedly not looking at him. “I have to,” Akaashi says slowly. “Otherwise, you’d never leave me alone.”

Bokuto rolls over onto his side, hands tucked under his cheek and head, knees curled to his chest. It’s such a childish way to rest, but Bokuto looks comfortable. Of course, Bokuto always looks comfortable even when everything around him, like Akaashi’s once neat bed, is a mess, but still. Bokuto looks comfortable, content--all in Akaashi’s bed.

Did he look the same way in Hayato’s bed? In Hideyoshi’s?

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi’s throat is tight, he can barely get out the words. “Why did you date Hideyoshi?”

Bokuto blinks at him but doesn’t look terribly surprised by the question. “Because he asked me, and he’s hot, and thought I was hot.”

“And Hayato?”

“Because he asked me, and he was hot, and thought I was hot.”

Akaashi feels his pen creak and eases his grip. “That’s it?” His voice makes Bokuto flinch a little. “They were attractive and thought you were attractive--that’s it? You dated them and kissed them and let them _touch you_ \--” Akaashi cuts himself off quickly, feeling like he should stand and leave or maybe--

Bokuto sits up, uncertainty making his lively face still. “And because they asked me. But you asked, Akaashi, and now I’m dating you, so I don’t understand why--”

“So why me? You’re dating me because I’m hot and I think you’re hot, and because I asked?” _Easy, needy, clingy_. “You could have said no. You did the first time.”

The words spin around his head-- _he knew what Bokuto was like, why is he still upset_ \-- but even as he tries to get a hold of himself, Akaashi sees Bokuto’s slow head tilt, the curious way his mouth curls whenever faced with some new, strange obstacle. Sometimes Akaashi sees it on the court. Usually, he sees it when Komi refuses to share Sarukui’s latest snack hiding place and Bokuto knows Sarukui bought more potato chips.

Then Bokuto grins, his cheeks going pink. “You think I’m hot, Akaashi?”

Akaashi very nearly throws his pen at the other boy. “I think you have terrible taste in men, and--”

Bokuto rolls right off the bed and scampers to him on all fours. “My taste can’t be that terrible. I’m dating you!”

Akaashi does throw the pen at him, then, but he also grabs Bokuto’s collar and kisses him hard on the mouth. Bokuto makes a soft sound of surprise, but gives in easily, sliding his arms around Akaashi and leaning onto him. It’s an awkward angle, but Akaashi perseveres, licking into Bokuto’s mouth when he tries to speak, despite being mouth-to-mouth with Akaashi. Their kiss gets wetter, softer, and Akaashi is cradling Bokuto’s face in his hands when the other boy pulls away to catch his breath.

And then Akaashi is treated to the sight of Bokuto, eyes more black than gold, lips wet, parted, and looking at Akaashi light he single-handedly pulled down the moon so Bokuto could spike it. Akaashi can’t look away.

Selfishly, jealously, he’s glad that it wasn’t Konoha or Washio or Hiroshi. If he could erase this sight from the others’ memories, Akaashi would do so immediately. He doesn’t want anyone else to know what Bokuto looks like when he looks like this. He already has to share the burning brightness of Bokuto on the court, has to share his laughter and jokes and kindness with the rest of Fukurodani. 

But this? The way Bokuto looks as he kisses Akaashi’s fingers, his hands, the curve of his cheek, the edge of his jaw--now that’s all Akaashi’s.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispers, turns his head so he can kiss Bokuto again. “I’m sorry. I said some very nasty things, and thought some very bad things, and--”

“You tend to do that,” Is what Bokuto says, a little slyly, and a little sweetly so he can get away with it. “But I’m sure it’s just because you can’t stop that big brain of yours from thinking so hard, right? And so you kept thinking and thinking and thinking--”

“Bokuto-san, no one likes a sore winner.” Akaashi runs his thumb under the curve of Bokuto’s mouth. 

“And thinking and thinking,” Bokuto continues. “When you could have been kissing me instead. Tell me I’m right, Akaashi.”

“You’re right, Bokuto-san.” And then Akaashi kisses him again.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Wrap up notes: 
> 
> 1\. Bokuto really really does love Akaashi, I promise. He's not just dating him because he's hot and because he thinks Bokuto is hot and because he asked.
> 
> 2\. The only reason the entire team was okay with this plan was because they knew these idiots love each other. 
> 
> 3\. Konoha is haunted by the knowledge that, in another life, in another world, he and Bokuto are soulmates. 
> 
> 4\. Fukurodani has one braincell and the managers are in charge of it. No one else.


End file.
